Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

The clutching fingers of darkness surrounded them as the door swung shut, thudding against the side of their stalwart vessel. The walls closed in around them. The space felt tight. The odor of animal fur and sweat and dirt filled the air, tightening their lungs. Bile rose in the back of their throats. Their breaths came in short gasps. In a moment of panic-infused claustrophobia, someone raced to the door, frantically throwing their weight against it, desperate for fresh air and light. It didn’t budge. It wasn’t supposed to. God had shut them in. 

It wasn’t pleasant. It couldn’t have been. Animals everywhere. Paws, claws, and tails constantly underfoot. No privacy, no peace, no pleasures. It might have almost seemed like a punishment. Except it wasn’t. The ark wasn’t built to be a prison. The door wasn’t miraculously sealed to frustrate and antagonize the people within. It was for their safety. No matter how jarring the sound, the slamming of that door into the side of the ark was the echo of salvation granted by a loving God, sparing Noah and his family from the death and destruction raging without. (Genesis 6-8)

Years later, another door slammed shut. A door that should never have been opened. The door of Lot’s house. A house he should never have inhabited, in a town he should never have entered. A house in Sodom. He didn’t move there by accident. He wasn’t unaware of the rampant wickedness permeating that city. He’d started out setting up camp in the valley outside of town. His curiosity, his apparent thirst for the world, his own hunger for sin lured him inside the gates. It was a horrible error in judgment. (Genesis 13:10-13)

In fairness, God revealed to Lot’s uncle, Abram, His plan to destroy the city. In grace and mercy, God allowed Abram to bargain for his nephew’s life. If there were 50 righteous in the city, God would stay His hand. If there were 40…30…20…10, He would withhold His wrath. Unfortunately, the discovered righteous, if there were any, fell short of the required amount. But God’s compassion didn’t fail. He sent angels to rescue Lot and his family from the rainfall of fire and brimstone. It should have been an easy task. (Genesis 18:17-33)

They had possibly never been tasked with anything more difficult. The evil people of Sodom harassed the household to bring the angels of God out to them for debaucherous purposes. Overconfident in his reasoning skills, Lot believed he could dissuade them. He couldn’t. They pressed in. Lot stepped back. They pressed closer, nearly trampling him in their frenzied attempt to break down the door separating them from their prey. It was not to be. In keeping God’s previously set precedent, the angels of God reached out, snatched Lot inside, and the door slammed shut. It didn’t reopen. It wasn’t supposed to. The abrasive snap of the door slamming shut was a resounding exclamation mark ensuring the safety of Lot due to the faith of Abram. (Genesis 19)

Apparently, not everyone was relieved by the safety represented by the sound of that slamming door. Lot’s sons-in-law thought it was a joke. Lot himself was hesitant to leave, dragging his feet and forcing the angels to take physical action to preserve his llife. As the family was being led away by the hands, the angels warned them not to look back. At all. Not a glimpse. Not a stare. Not a longing. Do. Not. Look. Back. But the love of evil within Lot’s wife had her glancing back for one last, longing look at her beloved home. It was to her detriment. She never saw safety. Instead, she became a pillar of salt, sacrificing her life, her soul, her eternity for a last look at the things a closed-door protected her from. (Genesis 19:15-26)

Isn’t it odd how much we have in common with Lot’s wife? She was so sidetracked, so distracted, so addicted to the things of the world that she was willing to sacrifice everything for a grieving, longing, parting glimpse of her beloved sins. We do the same. We chase down the things of earth as if our very lives depend on them. We attain them at great cost. We skimp and scratch to secure awards and titles and accolades. We spare no expense, except our souls. 

But what happens when God closes a door? How do we respond when God looks with His heavenly vision into the future and sees the horrific ramifications of attaining our deepest desires and, in an act of grace, mercy, and love shuts the door on the coming heartache? When God sees impending doom, inevitable destruction, incomparable spiritual demise, and the door slams shut, what echo do you hear? The violent slamming of a door out of petty injustice, or the melodious whoosh of a door closing between your soul and certain disaster? 

What you hear is vitally important. It changes how you respond. Although it is likely Noah’s fun meter was at an all-time low about being cooped up on that ark for 150 days, he didn’t complain, didn’t fuss, didn’t ask God to change His mind or find another way. No. He preached as he built. Invited others to join him. Endured the laughter, the jibes, the questions about his sanity. Because Noah knew the closing of that door was the sound of safety and redemption for his family. The thud of that door was music to his ears.

Not so for Lot and his family. They balked. They didn’t want to leave. So ensnared and dependent on their sin-filled city, all they could hear was the siren song of the world calling them to hesitate. Pull back. Stay. Enjoy the pleasures of sin for another season. As with Eve in the Garden of Eden, the song of the evil one wove its way so intricately into their hearts and minds, they faltered in their exit. They had to be forcibly dragged from destruction. So deep was their love affair with sin, the slamming of the door was not the melody of safety, but the raucous discord of being denied their way. 

What about you? What do you hear when the door to your perceived dream slams shut? The job in the corner office falls through. The expected generous raise is reduced. The editor rejects your manuscript. Your acting and musical talents aren’t appreciated by the local theater. Your child doesn’t make the team, isn’t awarded the scholarship, doesn’t get accepted by the prestigious college. Whatever it is, when God, in wisdom, love, mercy, and grace, shuts the door, do you hear the melody of peace and protection or the cacophony of deprivation and denial? And how do you respond?

Does your anger explode? Do you rant and rage to all and sundry? Do you doubt God’s love? Denounce His wisdom? Deny His grace? Perhaps you question His intellect. Challenge His omniscience. Query His sovereignty. Do you weep and wail, beg and plead, kick and pry at that closed door in hopes of changing His mind? Do you allow the echo of that slamming door to build resentment and bitterness in your heart causing spiritual starvation? Or do you close your eyes and allow the subtle melody of a closing door to remind you of God’s infinite love, mercy, wisdom, and grace? Are you cognizant that a closed-door could be the salvation of your soul? Do you remember that His plan for you is good and will be accomplished in His time? Do you rest in the knowledge? (Ecclesiastes 3:11; Philippians 1:6; Hebrews 12:15; Mark 8:36-37; Romans 11:33; Ephesians 3:14-21; Colossians 1:17; Psalm 37:7)

I don’t know what door you are impatiently standing before today. I don’t know what you want more than anything else. I do know this. Humanity does not have a good track record of making wise choices. God does. So let Him lead. And, if the door closes, even in your disappointment, remember this, God is too wise, too loving, too kind to make a mistake or be cruel. If the door closes, it is for your safety. Physically, maybe. Spiritually, absolutely. God is busy preserving your soul. So sit back. Take a deep breath. Let the melody of His love and care echo in the silence around you and know this. God is for you and you can trust Him. (Isaiah 26:3-4; Psalm 121:7-8; Proverbs 16:9; Romans 8:28)